Most coming out stories tend to follow a certain pattern. There comes a time, usually at a young age, when someone notices that they’re a little different: they have some feelings that most other people don’t have. Eventually, they put the pieces together and come to understand what this means. They realize that they’re gay, or lesbian, or bisexual, and they have to work through the implications of this. For many of them, it may be difficult to accept themselves for cultural or religious reasons, and even harder to cope with how others might react to this. But hopefully, they’ll reach a point where they’re comfortable enough and confident enough to let more people know. It might be intimidating or stressful, but they find that honesty and integrity requires it of them.

And, in the best case, everything goes well: they find acceptance and support, and they’re able to live their life while being open about who they are. They may need to come out again to different people throughout the course of their life, but an equilibrium has been reached – they’ve established a new normal. They found their true identity and cemented it as a part of their personal and public life. And that’s the end of the story.

Or is it?

I came out a couple years ago, to the surprise of absolutely no one. Nowadays, it’s hardly even necessary, since most people can’t help but notice. For me, it quickly became the new normal. And I thought that was the end of it. So I hardly even realized that something was sneaking up on me. You see, I’ve always had a thing for guys. I can regale you with all the typical stories about when I first knew, about paying more attention to my friends and less attention to girls, and the myriad other clues that point directly to being gay. But sometimes, unexpected things happen. Sometimes new evidence comes to light, and you have to update your understanding of things.

Guys are just great, although they often get kind of creepy around me for some reason. And I’ve never been the kind of person who needs to be with someone that badly, so I was pretty happy to be single. Yet, the entire time, I had somehow failed to notice the person I’d grown so close with, because I wasn’t aware of how much potential we had together. I thought this wasn’t an option. I was wrong.

I mean, think about it: When you look like me, and you’re gay, what’s the most obvious conclusion? I didn’t see it at first, either. But eventually, the conditions were right, and things between us just spontaneously combusted. Everything finally came into focus, like a Magic Eye picture. She’s my girlfriend, and I’m her girlfriend. The answer was right there: I’m a lesbian!

I know, I wouldn’t have believed it – until it actually happened. And it really works! In fact, that’s an understatement. It’s not even a compromise for us. She’s the most brilliant person I’ve ever known and I love her. I’ve never been so close with someone before, and it’s revolutionized my life. The time before I knew her pales in comparison to what we have now. I’ve never been so happy, and there’s no way I was going to pass on the most amazing person in my life just for the sake of a label.

So, is this a matter of confusion of some sort? I’m sure some people might think so, but nothing about this is confusing. It is what it is, and it couldn’t possibly be clearer to me now. Others might be confused about what we have, but I’m certainly not. I know who I am, and I know what we are. Could it be a kind of fluidity? It doesn’t seem like it. I find it hard to imagine a point in my life when I would have told her, “Sorry, you’re a woman, no can do.” I’m pretty sure I was always open to this, even if I didn’t know it at the time. It definitely hasn’t made me any less gay. There’s just more to it than that – more than I ever knew.

It’s like I’ve always told you: it’s about love. And that’s what this is. I have the most incredible girlfriend in the world, and we love each other. It may have been a surprise, but it’s been the most wonderful surprise of my life. And I’m proud to say I love her.